December 5th, 1959
Reykjavik, Iceland
Indy looked down at the gold envelope, then at the street outside, then at the patrons of the shipyard cafe. The letter he had received contained specific instructions: Meet at the shipyard at 10:00 am on December 5th. Do not be late.
Pretty vague, Indy thought to himself. The cafe was filled with men of various ages, each wearing ratty jumpsuits and dingy hats. Ship workers, Indy thought. But as he scanned the room, he began to notice others that didn't quite fit the bill. These men wore elegant business suits, had slick hair and professionally shined dress shoes. Definately not workers. Are they going to Rapture too? Indy looked at the clock behind the counter. 9:50 am. Time to go.
Indy walked along the docks, watching as ships were being repaired. One such boat caught his eye. It was a massive ship, too ornate to be a cargo ship, yet too industrial to be a luxury yacht. Large red letters were emblazoned on the side: Olympian. As he studied the massive vessel, he began to think to himself. How am I going to get to the city? Who am I supposed to meet? Maybe they'll know me-
"Doctor Jones?"
Indy turned around to see a man walking towards him. He was tall, very thin, and scrawny, with sunken cheek bones and large ears. He had on a red shirt and khaki pants.
"Doctor Jones, I'm so glad I found you. Are you ready to make the journey?" the man said to Indy.
"Who are you- wait, how did you know who I was?" Indy said, confused.
"Oh, excuse me. The name's Stanley. Stanley Poole. I'm taking you down to Rapture. Mr. Ryan is pretty selective about who should come to his city, so he has us memorize the faces of those who have been invited."
Indy thought about the situation for a minute, then replied, "Alright, let's get down there."
